


strike us like matches

by TrenchWarfare



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Established Relationship, Gender Identity, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Katsuki Yuuri, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Other, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 13:23:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8491372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrenchWarfare/pseuds/TrenchWarfare
Summary: What about Victor? It’s a good question, one a part of him would never forget to make him ask himself. Part of him wants to forget about Victor and do something for himself for once, but he hasn’t been able to do that in all 27 years of his life. The moment he knew Victor existed Yuri belonged to him and that hasn’t dulled since meeting him, winning with him, retiring with him.





	

The fabric is light and soft where Yuri pinches it between his fingers, thin in the way that clothes for men typically aren’t. Yuri runs his fingers down the length of it, lingering at the cinched waist, almost reverent at the alien feel of the way the cloth is folded.

With a start, he looks around guiltily, realizing how improper this whole ordeal is. But no one in the New York boutique gives him a second glance. Yuri lets out a breath he didn’t remember holding in.

The sundress is deceivingly innocuous on the rack, the blues of it are as innocent as they are cutting. Yuri’s pretty sure his face has been bright red since he first laid eyes on it.

He could probably buy it without someone batting an eye. It’s New York, right? Even if they knew he was buying it for himself the cashier with the purple hair probably wouldn’t judge him too harshly. Heck, he might not even be the first man – but god, did he hate describing himself that way – to buy a dress for himself here today.

Yuri worries his bottom lip between his teeth. There’s really not anything stopping him, except maybe the way his heart is trying to burst from his chest.

What about Victor? It’s a good question, one a part of him would never forget to make him ask himself. Part of him wants to forget about Victor and do something for himself for once, but he hasn’t been able to do that in all 27 years of his life. The moment he knew Victor existed Yuri belonged to him and that hasn’t dulled since meeting him, winning with him, retiring with him.

Yuri tries to imagine what Victor would say if he saw this. If he would be disgusted or accepting. Yuri wants desperately to be sure of the latter, because come on, this is Victor Nikiforov, the man who deliberately tried to pass as two genders during the beginning of his career, but the void where Yuri’s self esteem should be always seems wider when Victor isn’t next to him.

But Victor has never been cruel, not outside of coaching at least, and even the void can’t make Yuri imagine a scenario where Victor doesn’t accept this. Yuri snatches the dress off the rack before he can talk himself out of it and heads to the register.

-

It’s a totally different experience seeing the dress on his body instead of the hanger. Yuri stands in front of the mirror in their hotel room, smoothing his hands down his sides, feeling the fabric shift under his fingers, twisting his hips back and forth to watch the skirt twirl around his knees.

He had worried, on the way back, if it would be too ill fitting, his chest too small and stomach too pudgy for it to work on him, but now, he’s too fixated on how the edges of the skirt tease at his legs too care about any of that.

He wishes, vaguely, that he had bought shoes to go with it, because none of his sneakers are going to make this work as an ensemble.

The door beeps and clicks, indicating someone has unlocked it with a keycard and Yuri doesn’t have more than a second to panic before Victor steps inside. Yuri stares, making a good impression of a deer, while Victor shrugs his bag off, his hand rubbing at his face tiredly. They’re only in New York because an old friend of Victor’s wanted him help coaching a particularly difficult skater and it’s been taking a lot out of him.

Normally, Yuri would go over and wrap Victor in his arms, but he’s frozen to the spot, overly conscious now of the dress’s cinched waist and his exposed legs. He waits, not daring to even breathe, for Victor to look at him.

Victor mutters something in Russian before he takes his hand away from his face. His eyes widen, almost unnoticeably. Yuri grasps at the skirt tightly as Victor looks him up and down, gaze roaming from his calves to his chest, lingering on where Yuri’s hands are white knuckled in the fabric. Their eyes finally meet and the world doesn’t end.

A smile twitches across Victor’s face. “Yuri!” He calls, stepping forward so he can wrap his arms around Yuri’s waist, twirling him into the air.

“Victor! Put me down!” Yuri’s face is so hot he’s surprised it’s not giving Victor sunburn. Victor sets his down, but keeps his arms tight around him, so they’re pressed close together and Yuri has to crane his neck to look Victor in the eye.

“You look beautiful.” Victor coos, squeezing Yuri even tighter, something Yuri’s noticed Victor doing a lot more ever since he gained some weight.

“Thank you,” Yuri says, casting his eyes down, despite wanting to deny deny deny. He’s learned over the years that Victor won’t let him ignore his compliments and it’s better to give in early or risk being overwhelmed. “How was your day?”

Victor ducks his head so his face is buried in Yuri’s neck. “Not important. I’m more interested in _your_ day,” he says with a well-placed kiss to Yuri’s jaw.

“Uh, my day?” Yuri clutches at Victor’s shoulders while Victor mouths at his neck. A sharp nip causes Yuri’s toes to curl in the plush carpet. He’s glad for Victor’s arms around his waist because he’s not sure he could have stayed standing otherwise.

“Yes, surely it was more interesting than mine.” Yuri feels Victor’s smile against his skin.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Yuri says, his words turning into a yelp when Victor’s hand creeps up his skirt.

Victor pulls back so he can look into Yuri’s eyes. “You’re so pretty,” he says before capturing Yuri’s mouth in a kiss. Yuri lets out a broken noise that Victor greedily swallows. He’s not sure if it’s from the hand on his thigh or Victor’s words, but he can’t be bothered to examine it more closely.

Yuri lets himself drift in the ocean of Victor’s mouth, his fingers tangled in the hair at Victor’s nape are his only lifeline. Victor’s pushes up his skirt more, his hand rubbing at his thigh just too far south for any real satisfaction, but it makes him breathless with need.

Yuri shifts his hips forward, seeking friction, gasping when he finds that Victor is just as hard as he is. Victor breaks away so he can pull off his shirt.

Yuri enjoys the view. Like Yuri, Victor isn’t in as good shape as he used to be, but he still works out enough that he’s more lean muscle than flab. Yuri loves it as much as Victor loves how soft Yuri’s belly is now. Yuri reaches out and runs his hand down Victor’s chest, because that’s something he can do and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over how surreal it is.

Victor quirks a smile at him and traps Yuri’s hand in his own. “We should move this to the bed maybe,” he says.

“I don’t know,” Yuri says, his free hand coming up to cup Victor’s face, “are you still strong enough to fuck me against the wall?”

Yuri knows the answer, he only said it so he can watch Victor fumble and he’s rewarding when Victor’s face flares red and he looks at the wall, a determined look on his face like he’s calculating advanced mathematics.

“I could try?” Victor says, voice breathy.

“Hmm, you don’t sound very confident.” Yuri pretends to think about it for a moment, then lets a wicked grin twist his mouth, “I could just ride you instead.”

Victor’s eyes widen and he says something in Russian, too quick for Yuri to parse even after all these years. When Victor is still for too long, Yuri decides to take control and he pushes Victor onto the bed and climbs on top of him.

Victor looks up at him, his mouth red and wet, his hair disheveled. He looks dazed, Yuri’s favorite look on him because it really only happens in situations like this, where Yuri’s in control and Victor is at his mercy. He’s beautiful and if Yuri were still in the habit of putting up posters of Victor, this one would go right above his bed.

“Gorgeous,” Victor mumbles, his hands on Yuri’s thighs where the skirt of the dress is pushed up. One of his hand creeps around, to Yuri’s ass and Yuri stops thinking.

-

“Were you trying to seduce me?” Victor asks, after they've caught their breath. He has his head on Yuri’s stomach, which has become his favorite pillow now that there’s some squish to it.

“No, I wasn’t even thinking about that,” Yuri says, a little surprised to find that’s the truth.

Victor hums and lifts up the skirt between two fingers, inspecting the ruined remains. “We should get you some more of these. I don’t think you could wear this one in public anymore.”

“Yeah?” Yuri says, a little breathless.

Victor’s answering smile could power the whole city. “Yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> One day I'll be able to write a proper smut scene, but that day is not today. I'm @TrenchWarfaire on twitter, please come yell about victuri with me.


End file.
